


can we always be this close (forever and ever)

by nothingbutniall



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, WTFock Season 2, Wedding Talk, babies in love, end of summer hangout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 23:22:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20416012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingbutniall/pseuds/nothingbutniall
Summary: "So much of her relationship with Senne was built right alongside the shores of this river. Their first date, their first kiss, their first fight. It all comes down to this."





	can we always be this close (forever and ever)

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Taylor Swift's Lover.

“You’re going to get us killed.” Zoë adjusts her stance on the scooter, tightening her hold around Senne’s waist. For never having ridden one of these Bird scooters before, he is ridiculously confident in his abilities to maneuver it through the streets, slaloming between the people.

They’re waiting in front of a red light now and Senne looks back at her with a smile. “When have I ever let you get hurt?”

When Zoë pulls a face, a sheepish smile appears on his face and he quickly adds: “Physically I mean.”

The light turns green and Senne speeds up again.

“Seriously, Senne, you’re gonna hit someone.” Zoë has to speak up to be heard over the wind in their ears. She can’t make out the faces of the people they pass, all of them morphing together in a blur. It’s just gone six and the shopping street is still bustling with people on their way to the station.

Normally, they would’ve walked to the riverside where her friends are surely waiting for them already, but Senne spent just a little too long trying on approximately fifty-seven pairs of shoes, only to walk out of the store empty-handed. Zoë suspects it may not have entirely been an accident, as Senne’s been trying to get her onto a scooter for weeks now.

Somehow, they make it past Meirbrug, the weirdly complicated crossroad that Zoë hates even as a pedestrian, let alone when they’re speeding past the other traffic. She closes her eyes and leans her head against Senne’s back, only glancing back up when she can hear the stream of traffic has diminished. On her right, the cathedral towers above some restaurants. If they weren’t running late, she’d ask Senne to make a detour – she loves the elegance of gothic architecture.

They reach the quay at the same time as Milan and Jana calls out at them: “We thought you’d ditched us!”

“The best people are always fashionably late, darling,” Milan tells her, popping a piece of brownie in his mouth and moaning exaggeratedly.

There is enough food to feed a small army, all kinds of fruit, chopped up vegetables with an array of dipping sauces, sliced baguettes, brownies, biscuits, and even pizzas. Moyo seems to be mixing up some drinks off to the side.

They say quick hellos to everyone and Senne goes to fix them drinks while Zoë sits down on the cobbled ground themselves. The stones are warm from the sun and Zoë kicks her sandals off so her feet can soak up the warmth as well.

Senne hands her a suspiciously bright pink drink and she squints up at him in question, the sun catching on his hair and turning the ends a fiery copper shade.

“Raspberry mojito with extra rum,” he says, sitting down next to her and kissing her cheek.

She sticks her tongue out at him. “Ha, very funny.”

“It’s orange juice, sparkling water and some blackcurrant squash. According to Moyo, you can replace the water with vodka, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate that.”

“I see you’ve gone for the vodka,” she says teasingly, nodding at his cup.

He knocks their knees together. “We’d actually die on that scooter.” He takes a sip. “I’m being the responsible adult and staying sober to make sure none of you kids end up in the river.”

Zoë scrunches up her face with a laugh and leans her head on his shoulder. “What a gentleman. I don’t think Milan got the memo about being a responsible adult.”

They watch as Milan downs a shot, already looking slightly sloshed.

“If anyone ends up in the water, it’s gonna be him,” Senne predicts.

//

Luckily, nobody tumbles off the quay into the river, although it’s a close call when the boys start doing skateboarding tricks and Robbe slips off, only barely catching himself before he reaches the edge. Somebody turned an empty bowl into a makeshift speaker and they’re blasting the new Taylor Swift album. The boys aren’t quite as into it as the girls, or at least they pretend not to be, because Zoë can see Robbe humming under his breath and Jens is drumming his fingers to the rhythm.

She’s half-sitting, half-laying between Senne’s legs now, her back to his chest, his chin resting on her shoulder. He’s swaying them lightly from side to side, their fingers tangled together on top of her stomach.

The sun has reached the edge of the waterline, painting the world in orange hues. Zoë feels that familiar burst of warmth in her chest. So much of her relationship with Senne was built right alongside the shores of this river. Their first date, their first kiss, their first fight. It all comes down to this.

She lifts his hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “I want our wedding pictures to be taken here,” she says quietly so only Senne can hear.

She feels his lips curl into a smile as he kisses the side of her neck. “I don’t recall a proposal.”

Shrugging, she snuggles further into his body. “You’re the one that’s always talking about marriage.”

“Would you say yes? If I asked you now?”

“I’m still a minor.”

“That’s not an answer.”

They’re quiet for a while. “I wouldn’t say no,” Zoë then says.

Senne’s thumb draws circles on her wrist. “But you also wouldn’t say yes.” It’s not a reproach, simply an observation.

She stares out over the water for a long time, tuning out the world around them. “I don’t need a ring to know I love you. And I don’t need a piece of paper to want to stay with you. But I’ll marry you because I’m proud of you, and of us.” She turns in his hold, sitting cross-legged between his open legs, knees resting on his thighs. “I will say yes. Not right now, but I will. So you’ll just have to keep asking.”

Senne kisses her. “You’re lucky you’re worth waiting for,” he murmurs.

**Author's Note:**

> If this is the last time I write about them, at least it will be the fluffiest fic in existence.  
I'm honestly not sure how much more I can write without starting to repeat myself. If there are any fics you'd like me to write, feel free to let me know and I might give it a shot. No promises though ;)
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated. You can also find me on Twitter (@nothingbutniall)!


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